capabilities. Well, we don’t want to fall into that trap here.”
Heads nodded around the room.
“Nevertheless, we will be conducting intensive reconnaissance of mines and other important industrial facilities as we move forward. And I want all troop commanders to make sure their people know their NBC procedures from front to back. “
More heads nodded. With warning and the proper equipment, men could live and fight in a radioactive or chemically contaminated environment. But it took constant training and refresher courses to ensure that the warning and the gear would be put to good use.
“Now, there’s no question that ourjob’sjust gotten tougher and more complicated ” He smiled grimly “No question at all. Unfortunately, nobody’s civilized enough these days to fight in straight lines on nice, open battlefields. But we take the enemies we get. And Vorster is what we’ve got.”
Craig spoke flatly.
“One thing’s certain. Vorster and his fanatics are desperate. This latest threat proves that. We have them on the ropes. So let’s keep them off-balance and go in for the knockout.” He’d opted for boxing terminology at the last moment. His
British officers might not have understood the football comparisons that had first popped into his mind.
“Fourth and goal” didn’t mean anything in soccer.
“That is all, ladies and gentlemen. Carry on.”
He nodded to Boume.
“Attention!” The staff rose to their feet as one. As Craig stepped down from the podium, the sergeant major whispered, “Your press conference is set up in the London Room, sir. “
Craig sighed. He begrudged the time, but he had to give the media something to chew on. Reporters abhorred a vacuum more than nature, and if they didn’t have hard information, they’d take the soft stuff. Every rumor and whisper his staff had started would be amplified a hundredfold.
At least when his officers speculated, it was informed speculation.
“Tell them I’ll be there in five minutes, and tell General Skiles I want my immediate staff assembled for a meeting in half an hour.”
Craig looked at Skiles; and the others in his office, sitting, perched on the edges of desks, or standing.
“All right, gentlemen, the troops have been given the gouge, and the press has received a distilled dose of the same. Now what the hell are my options?”
Nobody even considered advising him to halt or slow down. Offensive pressure was more than a military decision. It was an extension of their commander’s personal desire to end this war as quickly as possible.
His J-2, the officer in charge of intelligence, cleared his throat.
“I
don’t know about options exactly, General, but I do have more information from the JCS. They have nuclear and mining engineers talking to each other. Apparently, what Vorster wants to do is possible.”
Craig nodded. That only confirmed his basic assessment. It was always easier to wreck something than to build it, and Vorster had already shown he was an expert at tearing things apart.
Skiles looked thoughtful.
“I’ve been working on the time factors involved,
General. I don’t think Pretoria would have made this threat public unless they already had at least one site wired. On the other hand, they’d be stupid to wait until the job was completely done.”
“Makes sense.”
“Okay.” Skiles doodled a quick series of numbers on a pad while he talked.
“I put some of our engineers and some Navy people with nuclear-power training on this. Now, based on the number of targets and some very rough estimates of South Africa’s transportation capabilities, they don’t believe the Afrikaners could prep a significant part of the Witwatersrand before the eighth or ninth at the earliest. Maybe even later than that.”
The chief of staff looked up from his doodling.
“It also gives us another reason for pressing the attack. The more pressure we put on Pretoria, the fewer troops the Afrikaners can release for transport and demolition work.”
“Then let’s keep the pressure on,” Craig said, “but let’s face facts. Even at forty-plus klicks a day, we’re still not going to be close enough to the mines before they’re rigged and ready to blow.”
His Air Force liaison leaned forward.
“Hell, we have total air superiority.
Why not grab these places by air assault like Ladysmith? We’ve got the helos and the manpower. “
Craig shook his head. He liked his officers to think aggressively. But sensible planning had to be firmly grounded in reality.
“I’m afraid that’s a nonstarter.”
The intelligence officer amplified Craig’s reasoning.
“There are literally hundreds of shafts and pits in the Witwatersrand, John. Every one of them would have to be hit by surprise and cleared simultaneously. It’s just not possible. “
“Yeah. I get the picture. ” The Air Force brigadier general lapsed into a gloomy silence.
The faces around the room mirrored his uncertainty and frustration.
Craig let the silence drag on for several seconds. Then he leaned forward.
“We’re looking at this situation the wrong way, gentlemen.
We’ve been looking from the bottom up instead of from the top down. How do we capture the mines? How do we block half a dozen channels of possible communication? How do we stop Afrikaner demo teams from setting off their charges?” He shook his head.
“The fundamental problem we face isn’t tactical-it’s strategic. So we need a strategic solution. A head shot, not more body blows. “
They stared back at him. Skiles got it first.
“You mean Vorster. “
“Right.” Craig’s voice was cold.
“Once Vorster gives the word to contaminate the mines, there’s nothing we can do to stop it from happening. So we have to take him out before he can give that order.”
JANUARY 7-LOUIS BOTHA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, DURBAN
Two men wearing South African Army uniforms stepped down out of the
U.S.
Air Force C-141 Starlifter and walked across the pitted tarmac toward the terminal building. The Air Force security troops on guard detail stiffened in surprise until they saw the red-white-and-blue armbands marking the men as Cape Province regulars. Both also had passes countersigned by the
Allied commander at Cape Town.
None of the MPs were especially surprised when the pair asked for directions to the Special Warfare compound at one end of the airport.
Everybody knew the Rangers and the SAS had dealings with all sorts of unusual people.
Col. Robert O’Connell sat behind his desk with his hands folded together in front of him. He was pleased to note that they weren’t shaking-at least not much. That one week’s enforced leave on Cape Town’s beaches might have been worth it after all.
The remnants of O’Connell’s 1/75th Rangers were back in the States enjoying a well-deserved rest and an outpouring
of public and media adulation. With Gener dead, the Pentagon brass had frocked him to the rank of full colonel and put him in command of the whole Ranger regiment. They’d expected him to handle that job from the
U.S. Instead he’d taken his promotion and volunteered for immediate service in South Africa. Part of that was pure cussed ness or maybe just stupidity, he thought. But mostly it was sheer professional pride. The war was still on. This Marine general Craig had the 2/75th under his orders now. And no Ranger regimental commander worth his pay could possibly run the show from a comfortable stateside berth while his men went into combat.
O’Connell smiled slightly, remembering his irritation when Col. Paul
